


The Movement of the Stars

by reachgracebyfalling



Series: Ilustris/Starlight [2]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Siblings, Wings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-01-24 14:39:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 7,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18573541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reachgracebyfalling/pseuds/reachgracebyfalling
Summary: Lucifer does what he can for his sister, everyone else does what they can for Lucifer.





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

The Movement of the Stars.

 

 

One – Hestia.

 

 

“Looks like you had a busy couple of days,” Chloe commented, taking in the state of the hastily (and badly) cleaned room. The ceiling and light fixtures had been pulled down, there were boards covering some of the windows and the piano was missing a leg. And Lucifer looked possibly even worse than he did during the Zombie Bride case, “Either the orgy went really, really well or it went really, really badly?”

She doesn’t miss the way he glanced toward his bed, before giving her a slightly leery grin. “I can add you to the guest list for the next one, if you’d like?” The offer isn’t as lighthearted or as genuine as it had been in the past.

There’s a person in the bed, their long dark hair escaping from under the pile of blankets.

“I’ll save you the trouble and decline in advance,” Chloe frowned, sliding onto a dusty, but otherwise clean looking bar stool, “It wasn’t really an orgy gone bad, was it?”

“No,” Lucifer refilled his glass with something that smelled less refined than his usual tastes, “But one of my sister’s is going to be staying for a while. She got herself out of a bad situation, so you’ll have to make do without me for a few weeks. Just while I help get her settled in.”

_A bad situation?_

“You’ve never mentioned any sisters?” Chloe glanced from her partner, to his bedroom, to his choice of alcohol for the day – less bottom shelf and more bottom of the barrel, “What’s her name?”

“Hestia.” Lucifer answered almost reverentially, abandoning the glass, in favour of drinking directly from the bottle, “It used to be Hesperiel, but someone in Greece mispronounced it and she liked it better, so it stuck.”

Of the empty bottles already on the bar, two were of his preferred quality, and the last three were similar to the one Lucifer was about to empty.

“Is everything ok?” Chloe asked, careful to keep her tone light, “You don’t have to tell me anything, but if there’s anything I can do to-“

Lucifer dropped the bottle; it bounced off the edge of the bar and hit the floor (a thousand glittering pieces fanning out across the cracked marble), and ran for the bedroom.

“-help?”

It takes a moment to hear it; Chloe’s been a cop long enough to know what the sound is, a keening cry of pain and loss. And Lucifer’s voice – calm and soothing – over the top of it, both speaking a lyrical language, she doesn’t understand and isn’t ever going to try to reproduce, ever.

 

She peeks into the room on her way out. There are a number of things that Chloe wasn’t expecting to see. How much Hestia looked like Lucifer. The bruises and bloodied bandages covering the younger woman’s back. The criss-cross of cuts on the soles of her feet. Or the look of utter wretchedness on Lucifer’s face as his sister sobbed in his arms.

 

 

* * *

 

A/N: Hopefully more soon :)

 

 

 


	2. Agony

 

The Movement of the Stars.

 

 

Chapter Two – Agony.

 

The Goddess of Creation gasped; covering her mouth to muffle the sound, and took an involuntary step towards her daughter. Agony didn’t even begin to describe what she was experiencing.

_Her dear sweet Hesperiel, what kind of monster…_

“Mother, why don’t we leave Hestia to rest?” Amanadiel gently guided her out to the terrace. Where Lucifer had moved most of his bar and was preparing to get very drunk (or at least try to).

“Hestia?” She looked at her sons helplessly, “Why would anyone do that to her? Hurt her? Take her wings?”

She caught the glance between them. Lucifer added more alcohol to the brightly coloured liquid in a large glass, threw in some white powder and drank it all down in one long swallow.

“What happened?” The Goddess demanded, “What haven’t you told me?!”

“I, I,” Lucifer wouldn’t meet her gaze, stammering, “I cu- I cut off her wings.”

Her knees buckled, and the Goddess collapsed into the chair Amenadiel placed under her.

“You-“ Her voice almost left her, “How could you?!”

“I had no choice.” The glass in Lucifer’s hand cracked.

“Did you hate your sister that much?”

“Hate,” Lucifer looked at her with quiet, unbelieving horror, “Hate Hestia?”

“You took her wings, Lucifer,” Her voice rose, “Surely-“

“Nobody was answering, Mother!” Lucifer slammed the glass down, where it shattered, his eyes as red as hellfire, “I begged, I pleaded for help, for anyone who could do what we could not. I promised to go back to Hell, I even promised to STAY there. AND NOBODY ANSWERED!”

“No.” The Goddess looked to her eldest son, who shook his head.

“If she’d been in the Silver City, anyone could have helped,” Amenadiel said bitterly, “But here, she needed Raphael or Father.”

“He wouldn’t just abandon his child like that.”

“He has before,” Lucifer reminded her, his face going devilish for a second, “None of us deserved it.”

“You lead a rebellion.”

“I burned, Mother,” Lucifer spat, “For millennia, and the only one of my siblings to offer any comfort was Hestia.”

“She went to Hell?”Amenadiel frowned, “You saw her? You never said anyth-”

“I didn’t see her,” The Devil admitted, absently buffing the stone on his ring against the sleeve of his jacket, “But I’d know her touch anywhere. And she’s not one to be bothered by a little fire and ash, perfectly happy on any plane of existence, our Hestia.”

“Then how did this happen?” The Goddess asked angrily, “And why didn’t you let her die? She would’ve gone back to heaven.”

“She didn’t want to,” Amenadiel sighed, arranging the chairs so he could sit next to his mother, “While Luci was trying to get help, she was begging not to die, to not go back.”

“She handed me the blade herself,” Lucifer shook himself, trying to rid himself of the memories. The weight of the knife in his hands, the softness if Hestia’s feathers, “She said I was the only one she trusted to do it.”

The Goddess swallowed a sob, accepting the drink dangled in front of her face and Amenadiel’s arm across her shoulders. “What did you do with her, her wings?”

“There are a few feathers in the safe, for emergencies,” Lucifer gestured vaguely to somewhere inside the penthouse, “We burnt the rest. I’ve seen what their kind of _divinity_ can do to mere mortals. It was far too dangerous to leave them lying around.”

“And what will Hestia do? When she’s better?”

“That, Mother,” Lucifer heaved a sigh, “May take longer than you think it will.

 

* * *

 

 

:) Thank you to the people who reviewed and left kudos.

 

 

 


	3. The Evening Star

 

The Movement of the Stars.

 

Chapter Three – The Evening Star.

 

“Do you want to tell me about her?” Linda prompted.

“Who?” Lucifer startled, blinking at her like he hadn’t realised that they’d been sitting in silence for nearly 20 minutes, “Oh, Hestia? Well… she’s my sister, likes a good fireplace.”

The attempt at a carefree smile was lackluster.

“I read that,” Linda stood and pushed a cushion into his arms, waiting until Lucifer rolled his eyes and reluctantly hugged it, “Is she really the Greek goddess of the hearth? What exactly is a hearth?”

She pronounced it her-th.

“Yes,” Lucifer gave her the ‘what do they teach you in school these days?’ look, “And it’s pronounced har-th, it’s the base of the fire place, the bottom bit where the ashes usually end up.”

“And how does an angel become a goddess?”

“Accidentally. Our Father set her a task, she came down here to do it, and a hundred years later, they were still venerating her name. A mispronunciation of it anyway.” He set the cushion aside, leaning back to spread his arms across the back of the sofa, looking as if he was debating whether or not to melt her brain… Again, “About half the so-called gods and goddesses are simply my siblings doing jobs for dear old Dad.”

“And the other half?” Linda regretted asking as soon as she had.

Lucifer shrugged, a motion Linda was sure usually involved more feathers.

“You know when you’re doing a group project? It’s quite a popular torment in Hell, by the way,” He smiled. An ‘I’m definitely going to melt your brain’ smile, “There’s the slacker, the clueless but trying one, the overly peppy one, the one who keeps trying to convince the teacher to let them do the project on their own.”

“The one who does all the work?” Linda added, asking, “That one’s God, right?”

“He’s the one who takes all the credit,” The smile dropped from Lucifer’s face and he made a disgusted sound, “The whole let there be light thing? That was me.”

“The Light Bringer.” She said it with just enough awe to make him smile again.

“Exactly,” The smile turned into a half disappointed pout, “You’re not going to ask about my cousins, are you?”

“Nope,” Linda shook her head, she’d deal with that bit of information if and when any of them turned up, “You said Hestia is mispronounced, what was it before?”

“Hesperiel.” He answered softly, “Always made us shorten it to Hesper, or Hes.”

“I saw that name, when I was looking for Hestia. I think it’s Persian or Greek for evening star.”

“A coincidence,” Lucifer assured her in a way that made her think that it really wasn’t, “Not that it matters. The ID I’m getting her will say Hestia Morningstar.”

“Does she need ID? Amenadiel seems to get by without any,” She shrugged one shoulder, “Mostly.”

“The Detective visited a few hours after you left,” Lucifer reclaimed the cushion, hugging it tightly, “I needed a reason for my future absences… And to explain why there was a crying, injured woman in my bed.”

“So you told her the truth.”

“I always do.”

“How is Hestia?” Linda offered, “I’m happy to make the occasional house call.”

“Asleep, when she’s not screaming. Amenadiel’s watching her,” There was a ripping sound and Lucifer; a little shame-faced, put the now torn cushion down and out of sight, “Thank you.”

“It may not feel like it, but it is healthy to take a break when you need to,” She’d been a little surprised that he hadn’t cancelled more of their sessions, “Still no sign of your other siblings?”

“No.” Lucifer contemplated the sofa’s other cushion, “Quite unreliable, the whole lot of them.”

“That must hurt.”

“You’ll find I’ve gotten rather used to it, Doctor.”

“Being used to pain, doesn’t mean that you don’t feel it.”

He shifted uncomfortably, rolling his shoulders. “As I’m well aware.”

 

 

* * *

 


	4. Forewarned, etc...

 

 

 

The Movement of the Stars

 

 

Chapter Four – Forewarned, etc…

 

 

Quinn (Dispatch Supervisor extraordinaire) eyed Detective Decker, and the bag marked with the logo from their favourite bakery, with suspicion. They made her wait while inspecting the bag – a lemon crumble muffin and raspberry mocha – and raised an eyebrow at the detective. “What’s this for?”

“A favour,” Chloe answered, aware of how Lucifer-ish she sounded, “If you could let me know if you hear of anything… unusual or excessive.”

Quinn paused, the drink almost at their lips. “Define _unusual_ or _excessive_.”

“Any, um… spontaneous confessions, stabbings, torture, amputations, anything messy that might be considered as overkill,” Chloe listed, carefully considering the state of her shoes, “People claiming to have been punished by the devil, that sort of thing.”

Qiunn put the drink down with a _thunk_. “What did he do?”

“Who?” Chloe feigned ignorance.

Quin gave her the ‘I do not have time for this bullshit’ stare.

“Nothing,” Chloe hoped it was the truth, “Yet.”

“Yet?” There were few things that Quinn truly hated, the word _yet_ was one of them.

“Lucifer’s sister was at his place the other night,” Chloe gave the closed office door a meaningful look, “And if anyone did to someone that I care about, what it looked like happened to her…”

“They’d never find the body?” Quinn asked sympathetically.

“Oh no, they’d find the body, “ Chloe corrected, her tone strangely light, enthusiastic even, “It would just be missing a few things, like fingers and teeth, possibly their skin.”

“And the only evidence it was you,” They considered Chloe with new-found; but slightly horrified, respect,” Would be me.”

Quinn put the muffin in a drawer for later, savouring the first mouthful of their favourite drink, and handed the waiting detective a homemade leaflet.

“My partner runs a support group for the friends and family of abuse survivors. There’s a ‘coffee and cake’ get together on Tuesday afternoons and a more ‘group therapy/safe space to vent’ style sessions on Thursday evenings,” They  gave Chloe a few more of the leaflets, “You’re welcome too.”

“Me?” She skim read the information, finding a list of other helpful options printed on the back.

“Everyone involved can participate. And I get the feeling the Devil’s more likely to go if you or his therapist are there to hold his hand,” Quinn reached for the paperwork they’d put aside at the detective’s approach, silently dismissing her, “I’ll let you know if anything too bloody gets called in.”

 

 

* * *

 

Thank you to everyone reading this.

This fic is set somewhere after Quid Pro Ho, but before A Good Day to Die. I'm attempting to fit it back into season 2 (there will probably be a drabble chapter at the end; a few lines of dialogue to explain how Hestia's presence changes each episode, rather than rewriting them) and season 3 will be mostly AU.

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

The Movement of the Stars.

 

 

Chapter Five – Forward and Backwards.

 

 

 

Hestia woke slowly – a slow, gentle rise out of some dark depth – aware of light and warmth on one side, and coolness and the hushed sounds of someone moving around a large room, occasionally stopping to slam a book closed, refill a glass or lightly caress piano keys, from the other.

_Her entire body ached._ From the constant dull throb of her face and feet, to the sharp agonising pull and stretch of her back. And there was the sense of a lifted weight, of a lack of weight were there should have been one.

Hestia took a deep breath, holding it in and counting to 5 before letting it out. Repeating the steps until the urge to cry lessened. She was so tired of crying.

…

She pulled the blankets down, away from her face. Watching Lucifer through the gaps in the stone pillars, his agitation keeping him from being still.

“When was the last time you slept?” Hestia’s voice rasped, as she slid a hand out from the covers and patted the empty spot beside her when he appeared in the doorway. His hair was a mess and seemed trapped in the doorway, “Cat got your tongue?”

Lucifer made an annoyed face at the thought of cats, but took the final step into the room, shedding his jacket and shoes.

“Since you got here, sister” He answered her first question, laying down face to face, leaving a defined gap between them, “So nearly a week.”

“You’ve never been very good at taking care of yourself, brother.” Hestia admonished, searching his face for she knew not what, and covering one of his hand with hers, “Do you get used to it?”

“No.” His voice sounded almost as raspy as hers, shaking a little, and he squeezed her hand, “Not enough to forget.”

“You do seem happier here.” Hestia smiled, sleep pulling her down again, “Maybe I could be happy too.”

Lucifer’s eyes drooped closed just before hers. “Whatever you wish, sister.” He mumbled, his words just shy of being a promise.

…

Lucifer gave Hestia another week – to sleep, to wake, to cry or not, to find some kind of equilibrium – before telling her of their brother and mother’s presence. And their wish to see her while she was awake.

He’d managed to mostly keep them away, usually with threats of Maze and of signing Charlotte Richards up to volunteer for all the ‘befriend an elderly person’ programs he could find.

Hestia let him help her sit up and nodded wearily. She felt exhausted in a way that Lucifer assured her would; eventually, go away, and doing something other that sleeping or not sleeping, has a certain appeal.

_And if she’s being completely honest with herself, so does the shower her brother’s offering._

 

Amenadiel was helping Lucifer change the bed sheets when Hestia finished using up all the hot water. She could sleep for another week just from getting dressed and has left a trail of water from the bathroom to where she leaned against a pillar to watch them bicker about the right way to make a bed and how many pillows she would need.

“Three or four will be enough.” Hestia spoke up before Lucifer could whack Amenadiel in the face with one of the pillows, “but if someone could help me with my hair?”

“I can?” A hopeful voice behind her asked, “If you want?”

Hestia turned, missing her brother’s concerned looks.

She froze as a pair of arms wrapped around her. A hand at the back of her head, turning her face into dark blonde hair. Hestia opened her mouth, shutting it with a clack as a scream welled in her throat.

“My sweet Hesperiel,” The Goddess hugged her daughter tighter, the eyes tearing up, “I’ve missed you.”

Her eyes squeezed shut. She flinched, wrenching herself back and throwing her arms up as the scream forced itself passed her clenched teeth. _And it didn’t stop._

 

The Goddess flew across the room, hitting the floor hard and sliding into the bookcase. Amenadiel was at her side a moment later. He helped her up and made sure she wasn’t hurt, though he kept glancing back at his siblings.

Hestia was on the floor; curled up as tight as she could, an arm protecting the top of her head. She had a hand covering her mouth, attempting, but not succeeding to muffle her panicked screaming, and her whole body shook. Lucifer had knelt down near her, keeping his voice low and even; hesitating to even stretch out a hand, as he tried to comfort her.

“We told you to wait.”Amenadiel frowned at the confusion on his Mother’s face.

“I don’t, don’t. What happened? Why is this happening?” The Goddess took a step toward Hestia.

Amenadiel stopped her, grabbing her wrist to hold her there.

“She was being hurt, Mother, someone was hurting her. Probably for longer than any of us want to think about. And I doubt anyone in the Silver City has realised that she needed to be looked for, I didn’t,” He turned her away from Lucifer and Hestia, “You startled her into thinking she was still there, or that she hasn’t left.”

Amenadiel put the Goddess into the open elevator and firmly pressed the down button, giving her a look that left the Mother of Angels speechless (and possibly a little bit terrified of her own son).

“We’ll let you know when you can come back.”

 

* * *

 

So that was season 4... Season 5 please.

Also, the waitress in the bar in episode 4 :)

 


	6. Marked

The Movement of the Stars. 

 

 

Chapter Six - Marked

 

"Hestia's here," Amenadiel addressed the view, "She's not the same as I remember. Someone hurt her, Brother. More than I'm able to truly comprehend."

He turned toward the pile of rocks marking Uriel's grave. 

"Did you realise she was gone? Was it part of Father's Plan?" The stone he added to the cairn had flecks of something in it that glittered like starlight, "Was it a test? Or a punishment? But what could she do that he would let that happen to her? How could  _we_ let that happen to our Sister?" 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 


	7. In Need.

 

 

The Movement of the Stars.

 

 

Chapter Seven – In Need.

 

 

Chloe hated having to ask Lucifer for help. Almost regretted asking, but this case would be giving her nightmares for weeks (if not months), and the sooner she closed it, the better. If only she’d been able to get people to talk to her. Or at least talk to Lucifer, something people often did before their brains realised their mouths were moving.

She’d understood his reluctance to leave the penthouse – Maze had mentioned (muttered angrily while furiously sharpening her knives) something about _Mamma Morningstar being a stupid bitch, and how Lucifer and Amenadiel had to start all over again_. Chloe had taken it to mean that Lucifer’s Mother had caused a set back in whatever progress Hestia was making.

She wished (god how she wished!!) she wasn’t asking him to leave the sister that clearly needed his support… But…

“The victim’s a 12 year old boy,” Letting the desperation and exhaustion in her voice do as much of the talking as her words, “There’s not a lot of evidence, nobody’s talking to me and I’m starting to get pressured to write it off as a gang thing…”

 ..............

Lucifer had been sitting at her desk the next morning, with several cups of coffee and a tired smile. He looked a little less awake, a lot more distracted and slightly less quaffed than normal. But he was there.

Chloe had told just enough of the right people, as much as they’d needed to know about the situation, that Lucifer doesn’t spent the rest of the day answering their questions. It made the day easier, even if he was checking his phone every five minutes. It had been every ten seconds, but she’d promised not to ask about the sort-of-cousin; who did have a phone and knew how to use it (and since she would probably look up the name later, his cousin spelt her it T-a-w-a-r-e-t), if he would put his phone away for long enough to ask the victim’s family some questions.

..........…

Even the Devil looked queasy, during and after the Aunt’s confession. He’d washed his hands twice, and was seriously considering doing it a third time. And possibly burning his clothes, while wearing them.

A softly spoken ‘ _Dude’_   is all the warning he gets before Ella wrapped herself around him, hugging him tighter and for longer than she normally would. Lucifer rolled his eyes at Chloe and extricated from the forensic scientist’s octopus-like embrace.

“A little more warning, Miss Lopez. Perhaps asking for permission?,” He told her, much more gently than he’d dealt with the uniformed officer who’d tried to hug him earlier that day, “I’ve recently seen how detrimental it can be to the unprepared. Rather not see it again actually.”

Ella jumped back like she’d been scalded, a horrified expression on her face.

“Oh yeesh,  I’m sorry,” She babbled the apology, “I wasn’t thinking, I’m so sorry. I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“I’m fine… Ella,” Lucifer patted her awkwardly on the shoulder, a move Chloe was sure was in part to measure and maintain the distance between them, “Thank you for asking.”

“And your sister, Hestia?”

“She’s… ah, ”He seemed embarrassed by her concern, “She’s, she’s… um…”

His smile broke, unable to lie, but unable to admit that Hestia wasn’t doing better.

“It takes time,” Ella reached out and squeezed Lucifer’s hand, holding on a little longer than necessary, “I have something for you.”

“It’s not another hug is it?” Lucifer asked distastefully.

“It’s not actually for you,” She corrected herself, picking up and holding out a stylish, but unbranded, travel bag, “We; Chloe and I, got your sister-“

“We got Hestia some clothes,” Chloe interrupted, giving Lucifer a break from Ella’s energy, “We thought she might like something that wasn’t from your closet.”

“There’s some underwear, socks. I hope she’s okay with sports bras,” Ella had opened the bag when Lucifer hadn’t taken it, holding up some of the still packaged items, “Maze wasn’t sure about sizes or colours, so we got soft and comfortable, elastic and drawstrings.”

“All things that offends your stylish sensibilities.” Chloe grinned, taking the bag and pushing it into the Devil’s arms, “For when she’s ready.”

He glanced between them, confused, but sincere, “Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

 

There is more coming, I promise. But I have random chapters written and I'm still figuring out the in between stuff.

Also it's nearing the end of semester and I have stuff due for uni (if anyone has ideas for my essay - Spectacle and Self: the determination of worth in commodity culture - let me know

 

 


	8. Lux

 

 

The Movement of the Stars.

 

Chapter Eight - Lux

 

“You know…” Marv the piano tuner said, opening the lid of Lux’s piano, “I think this is the first time I’ve been in here without Mister Morningstar hovering over me. Fusses worse than every other client combined.”

He shot Patrick the bartender what he thought was a clever look. “Have to go back to Hell, did he?”

Patrick refrained from rolling his eyes, because a) the ‘ _Devilish_ ’ jokes had stopped being amusing by the middle of his third shift, b) he’d heard that particular one at least a dozen times this week – and it was only Tuesday – and, c) it was uncomfortable; to say the least, to make jokes about Hell when your boss really was Satan.

“He had another appointment,” Patrick shrugged in response to Marv’s waiting gaze, “Said I was to do all the fussing."

.

.

Zev the bouncer frowned at the staff notice board.

“When did the new list go up?” He asked Fran the bartender/manager (AKA she who controlled the notice board).

“Last month, oh!” Her eyebrows rose with almost comical surprise, “Right, you’ve been out.”

“Uh-hu.” Zev nodded mockingly.

“The new list is all the people who have access to the penthouse,” Fran scowled at him, before explaining, “And who can have their questions about Lucifer; and Lucifer related things, answered. I’ve put copies of their Ids in the book in the office, but it’s mostly people who are on the free dinks list, so you should be fine.”

Zev skimmed the list. _Lopez, Martin, Decker…_

“What happened?”

“Something,” Fran hesitated. “…something similar to the reason why you haven’t been here…”

He’d been helping his cousin separate himself from his ex, but only Fran and Lucifer had known th-. _Ah_.

“And if people who aren’t on the list ask about the boss?”

“Use your own judgement on that. Whatever sounds like an answer, but doesn’t actually tell them anything. Ask Eddie and Kat about what they’ve been saying. And if you guys see any repeat or notice patterns, or even just have a feeling about someone, let Lucifer, Patrick or I know.”

.

.

Artie the dancer leaned across the bar, nearly yelling into Fran’s ear to make herself heard over the sounds of a busy Saturday night. “Can we put up a sign telling people that Lucifer’s cock is closed until further notice?”

“Nope,” Fran laughed, imagining Lucifer’s face if they did, “Why?”

“I’ve had seven different _Brittanii’s_ ask me if he’d be entertaining tonight,” Artie pouted, “Seven!”

Fran handed a customer their drinks, already reaching to make the next person’s order. “I thought there was only five?”

Artie shrugged. “I think Maze is collecting them.

 

 

* * *

AN: I didn't forget about this, sorry about the delay.

 


	9. Binary Stars

 

The Movement of the Stars.

 

 

 

Chapter Nine – Binary Stars.

 

 

Hestia sat next to her brother, hip to hip, and slumped boneless against his left side. He was warm, and despite their time apart, familiar and comforting. She felt him shiver, let out a startled breath and slump (just as boneless) in to her.

She wondered if Lucifer realised (despite all of his human interactions) just how touch starved he really was.

“Little brother,” Hestia hummed in contentment, “Do you think we could get Amenadiel to stop this moment forever?”

“As perfect as that sounds, little sister,” Lucifer replied lightly, cautiously, “There’s rather a lot you’ve missed.”

“Why do I get the feeling that that’s history’s biggest understatement?” She stole the cigarette from his hand and blew an impossibly perfect smoke ring, “Possibly only preceded by _It’s only a little rain._ ”

Lucifer silently lit himself another cigarette.

“Or not,” Hestia watched the lights of Los Angeles try to mirror the unseen stars, “Usually best to start from the beginning, yes?”

“Right… well,” Lucifer hesitated, “The long or the short version?”

“Shortest.”

“So, um… Maze, Mazikeen and I have been here for about six years,” That was the easy part, “Things happened, and now Amenadiel thinks he’s fallen, Mum escaped hell and is stuck in a human body. And, and.. I killed Uriel to stop him from obliterating Mum and killing the human who makes me vulnerable.”

He’d said it in such a rush, that even with angelic hearing, she wasn’t sure she’d heard all of it. The cigarette burned down to her fingers while she thought about it.

“Oh, and I’m in therapy,” Lucifer added, holding out an ashtray, “Nearly broke her when she saw my Devil Face.”

“You have a therapist, who knows?” Hestia asked holding onto the second easiest thing to understand, “Did you sleep with her?”

“Yes,” He answered both questions with a fond grin filling his face, “Rather flexible Doctor Linda is. But she decided that helping me with my issues were more important, so we don’t– have sex, that is -anymore.”

“She sounds more sensible by the minute.” She smiled at her brother’s regretful sigh.

“You could meet her, if you wanted to.” Lucifer shrugged, a careless gesture to make the suggestion seem lighter than it really was, “If you wanted to talk… about… anything?”

Hestia froze.

“Do I have to?” Her voice sounded so brittle, Lucifer didn’t know if he had the strength to piece her back together again.

“Only when you want to, if you wanted to.”

“No.” She held out a hand and he passed her the box of cigarettes and lighter, part of his recent history lesson catching up to her, “Mum escaped Hell and is in a human body?”

“An uncomfortably _hot_ , human body.” He answered with a scowl.

“Dark blonde hair?” Hestia blew another of her perfect smoke rings, making him grumble about little sisters, “Easily thrown across a room?”

“Unfortunately.” Lucifer confirmed.

“Ouch.” She winced, happily avoiding other parts of that particular day.

“She’d like to see you, try seeing you again. Under supervision, of course, Amenadiel, or myself, Maze if you don’t mind a demon…”

“I know Maze.” Hestia announced casually.

Lucifer leaned to the side, looking at her in surprise. “How the _me_ do you know Maze?”

The look on her face clearly said that she thought he was an idiot. “Even hell’s fires have hearths.”

“That is an affectation,” He accused (whined), settling back against her, a disturbed frown on his face, “But I don’t think I can remember what you’re the angel of?”

“Neither can I.” She sounded lost.

“We’ll have to see if Mum or Amenadiel remembers.” Lucifer suggested gently.

“Just not right now.”

“Maybe not even next week,” He rested his head against hers, “No point in embarrassing ourselves. Memory loss… at our age?!”

“Do you still hear them, prayers, I mean?” Hestia asked abruptly.

“Some of them, it’s easier to hear the ones that aren’t to the devil; or angel, without my wings,” The scars itched as he spoke, “Why?”

“I’d always gotten more as a goddess, than I ever did as the angel. Been out of touch recently” She tilted her head slightly to the south-west, listening to something, “But, there’s an oven being dedicated to me. I didn’t think anyone did that anymore.”

“Dad’s lost some voters in recent years,” Lucifer smiled, “You should talk to Tawaret. She’d also like to see you again, now you’re upright.”

“Tawaret was here?”

“I had to go out a few times, and she kept an eye things, made sure you weren’t disturbed while the repairs were being done. Your entrance made quite the mess,” He sighed like the drama queen he pretended not to be, “She’s a birth and wellness advocate in San Francisco, nearly bit my ear off when I called her.”

“You waited six years, several family crises and asked her to be in the same city as Mum,” Hestia gave him that ‘you’re an idiot’ look again, “You’re lucky you still have a face.”

“I may have agreed to host a fundraiser for one or two, possibly all, of her charities, to make amends.”

Hestia swallowed a laugh. “She’s going to make you hold every baby there.”

Lucifer kissed her cheek. “You’re worth it.”

 

* * *

 

 

It appears I've prewritten all the odd numbered chapters and need your patience while I figure out the content of and write the even numbered chapters.

 

 


	10. Information, and the lack there of

 

 

The Movement of the Stars.

 

 

 

Chapter Ten – Information, and the lack there of.

 

“Hey,” Dan turned back to his CI, “You heard anything about Morningstar?”

Toni shrugged. “My cousin’s boyfriend was part of the crew that fixed his ceiling a few weeks ago.”

“The ceiling?”

“Yeah, like the whole thing had come down, he had to re-do half the wiring,” She smirked, “Kept complaining about the woman supervising them. Said it reminded him of when he used to go down south, swamp-fishing, like being watched by a room full of hungry gators.”

Dan shivered, Maze sometimes gave him a similar feeling.

“S’it true about his sister?” Toni asked, “That someone beat the crap out of her?”

“That’s what I’ve heard.”

“I’ll ask around,” She gave him a look; up and down, apparently deciding he was still one of the okay ones, “Let you know if anyone’s looking for her.”

 

>>><<< 

 

“You’d think with names like _Lucifer_ and _Hestia_ ,“ Dan leaned against Chloe’s desk and held out her coffee order, “It would be easier to find information on them.”

Chloe sipped her drink; having a _moment_ with it, before raising an eyebrow at her ex-husband. “No news?”

“My CI’s have all the usual gossip and they seem to know there’s a sister, but none of them could tell me what her name was,” He sighed, “Why couldn’t it be simple? Just Lionel Miller taking care of his sister Helena at the end of a bad relationship, where we know exactly who the bad guy is, so we can arrest them and throw them in prison.”

“If only all our cases could be so simple?” Chloe commiserated, “I’ll be happy so long as I don’t have to question Lucifer about a dismemberment.”

“McKinnon started a book, half the stations got a bet in it,” Dan admitted.

“What did you bet?”

“20, on skinning alive.”

Chloe shuddered. “I think I’d rather the dismemberment.”

 

* * *

 

 

 


	11. The Approved List

 

The Movement of the Stars.

 

 

 

Chapter Eleven – The Approved List.

 

 

Trixie waited in the doorway to Lucifer’s kitchen, watching the woman who was most likely Hestia ( _and wasn’t that a cool name_ ). She had her elbows on the counter, resting her head in her hands and looked as if blinking too hard would knock her off the bar stool she sat on.

“Are you sick?” Trixie asked, climbing up onto the other bar stool, “Have you tried sleeping? Mummy says that sleep helps you get better.”

“She’s done all the getting better sleep can do,” Maze set out glasses on the kitchen counter and started pouring apple juice, “Trixie, this is Hestia. Hes, Trixie.”

“Beatrice Anne Decker-Espinosa,” Trixie held out her hand, letting Hestia shake it, “Pleased to meet you.”

“Hestia Morningstar. The pleasure is all mine,” She leaned toward Trixie, lowering her voice in a conspiratorial manner, “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“There was a plumbing emergency, so they had to send everyone home,” Trixie scrunched up her nose, “There are some things you shouldn’t put down a toilet.”

“I’ll remember that,” Hestia agreed solemnly, looking at Trixie as if trying to see through her, “You’re very interesting.”

“I’m going to be the first President of Mars.” Trixie declared, leaning forward in the same conspiratorial manner, “Are you an angel, like Lucifer?”

“Why doesn’t the first President of Mars go watch tv,” Maze interrupted, sliding Trixie her apple juice with a flick of her eyes at Hestia, “Something from the approved list.”

.

“What did you mean by _interesting_?” The demon asked from under the counter, “You said it like you meant something else.”

“A child who has made friends with a demon?” Hestia claimed one of the other glasses, studying the bottles that Maze lined up on the counter while she searched for one in particular, “One, who asked if I was an angel? One that Lucifer likes, even if he would never admit it?”

She slid a glance to where Trixie stood in front of a large television, her concentration split between the complicated remote control and attempting to eavesdrop, without being obvious about it.

“Of course she’s interesting,” Hestia gave Maze a very _Lucifer_ look, “She’s not going to hug me is she?”

“No,” Maze laughed, grinning, “Decker gave her a talk about human boundaries and personal space. You should have seen Lucifer’s face when I told her that his personal space didn’t count.”

“You’re terrible Maze,” Hestia smiled at her fondly, “How is he, really? Lucifer won’t lie to me, but…”

“Ugh,” Hell’s greatest torturer scrunched up her face and poured a generous amount of alcohol to both their glasses, “He has feelings now.”

“He’s always had feelings Maze,” The angel admonished, “It’s just always been easier and more fun for him to hide them under sex, drugs and rock’n’roll.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Because there’s a point where it stops working.”

“Now you sound like Linda.” Maze accused.

Hestia shrugged, letting the conversation drop and instead asked. “What’s the approved list?”

.

.

Trixie watched the thoughtful frown on Hestia’s face for a few minutes, before using her elbow to carefully nudge Maze in the ribs. At the Demon’s look – a raised eyebrow that clearly said _WHAT!?_ – Trixie tilted her head and rolled her eyes in the other woman’s direction.

“I’ve done that” Hestia said, still frowning at the TV screen. There was a tent full of people braiding bread dough, while a dark haired woman provided innuendo filled commentary, “When I visited before, I was taught how to do that. I liked doing that.”

“The kitchen should have all the equipment,” Maze told her, trying to appear uninterested in the prospect of freshly baked bread, “Just give me a list of ingredients.”

“Can you make chocolate cake?” Trixie asked, her obvious excitement making up for Maze’s pretense of none, “It’s my favourite.”

“I.. um,” Hestia hesitated, “Maybe?”

“Go back to the first season,” Maze dropped the remote into the girl’s lap, “We’ll make a list of things for Hes to bake once she’s ready to try something other than bread.”

 

* * *

 


	12. Chapter 12

 

 

The Movement of the Stars.

 

 

 

Chapter Twelve – Troubles Shared.

 

 

 

Chloe gently dropped her hand onto Lucifer’s knee, feeling him startle and then lean into the unexpected touch. The jerky, nervous up and down, tap-tap-tap of his other knee, stopping as some of the tension eased away.

 

Lucifer had actually enjoyed the _coffee and cake_ meetings. Quinn’s partner; Si, had directed Lucifer towards several different people to talk to (or flirt or have friendly arguments with - usually about music or expensive restaurants and with one person, the sexual orientation of golden-age movie stars), allowing the Devil an hour or two of healthy distraction.

 

.

 

But the group therapy sessions…

They -Lucifer and mostly Linda, but sometimes also Chloe and once Ella – had attended a few of them. In the beginning Lucifer had tried to argue that Hestia’s situation was _different_ , that they wouldn’t understand, but Linda had struck some kind of deal that neither of them would reveal the details of, and Lucifer had gone to a community centre far from all the beaches; to a room that reminded him uncomfortably of AA and NA meetings. And had sat through one session.

Where the people he’d enjoyed talking to in the back room of a café near a beach (not _the beach_ ), had spoken; not about what had happened before, but about what was happening after.

Recovery. Loss. Steps forward. Setbacks. Anxiety. Relief. Anger, Panic. Laughter. Healing. Crying. Worry. Hope. Fear that their loved ones would go back to their abusers, or be found by new ones. Or that they would go looking for new ones.

Not all the things that Lucifer had talked to Linda about, but enough that he’d agreed to attend a few more – circumstances permitting, of course.

 

.

 

Circumstances had not permitted Linda to be there on this particular day.

“You don’t have to talk today,” Chloe spoke quietly, squeezing his knee reassuringly.

“I promised Dr Linda I would.” The confidence that Lucifer usually exuded did not extend to talking about his sister or his concerns for her future well-being.

“Linda would understand if you wanted to wait for her to be here.”

“Afraid it’s more of a _now or never_ sort of thing, Detective,” He looked away from her to catch Si’s eye, “Can’t have anyone thinking that the Devil _chickened out_ , can we?”

 

 

 

* * *

So I have another written chapter, 2 unwritten chapters and one more written chapter, before I start linking this story back into season 2. And then season 3/4 will be more or less an AU. 

 

 


	13. Something to do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein there is the possibility of homemade bread.

 

The Movement of the Stars

 

 

Chapter Thirteen – Something to Do.

 

 

“I read the list if things you didn’t want to talk about,” The Mother of Angels fussed with her espresso cup, clinking it against the saucer, “It was… very long.”

“It could have been longer, Mother,” Hestia placed a bowl on the counter, giving its contents a critical look. The proving draw was proving ( _pun unintended_ ) to be more difficult than she’d first thought, “A lot longer. I could have made you and Amenadiel swap places.”

At his name, Amenadiel glanced up from the newspaper he was reading, “More bread, sister?”

“If I can get it to rise properly.” She sounded doubtful.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” He gave their mother a _look_ , before returning his attention to an article about local beekeepers. In his opinion baking was harmless and potentially yummy, at least she wasn’t yelling at houseplants or hoarding books.

“Wouldn’t it just be easier to buy a loaf of bread?” The Goddess asked, “There’s so much of it these days.”

“I prefer to do it this way,” Hestia sprinkled flour on the counter and tipped the dough out of the bowl, “Bread isn’t just bread these days. And it gives me something to do with my hands.”

“How very human of you,” The goddess sipped her espresso, “But I think I know what you mean. I find my host body’s work strangely satisfying.”

“You were always happier when you had something to do, Mother,” Hestia began kneading the dough, “Everyone needs a hobby.”

“And yours is baking bread?” She still wasn’t why her daughter was choosing to do so, at least Charlotte Richard’s job had a further purpose.

“I thought I might try cakes next,” Hestia shrugged, “Then perhaps pastry?”

“And that’s your plan, to stay _here_ and bake?” The Goddess of Creation asked, getting close to several topics she wasn’t supposed to be asking about.

Hestia let the loaf tin clang against the counter top, making her mother and brother jump. “For the moment and parts of the future? Yes.”

“But why?”

“Because I spent a very long time, in a very horrible place, having… Baking wasn’t a part of anything that happened,” Hestia jerked away from the suddenly hovering Amenadiel and the just realising how badly she’d messed up, Goddess of Creation, “I think… I think I need you both to leave now please.”

 

>>><<< 

 

Lucifer stepped out onto the balcony, making his approach louder than normal. Hestia waved a hand holding a slice of buttered bread in his direction. “How long did it take for Amenadiel to call you?”

“About five seconds after he put the fear of, well, _Hell_ into Mum,” Lucifer sat next to her; slumping against her side, eyeing the plate in front of them with a smile, “I see you got the bread to work.”

“Hmm,” Hestia nodded, putting her head on his shoulder, “She doesn’t understand.”

“She doesn’t know how to understand,” Lucifer explained, feeling his sister slowly stop shaking, “It’s not as if there’s a lot of us wandering around with… issues… Only three by my count.”

“At least four, if you count Omael,” Hestia tried to joke, “Not that we all couldn’t use some sort of therapy.”

Lucifer smiled down at her, taking several slices of the warm, crusty, buttery bread for himself. “I suppose Doctor Linda might be convinced to specialise.”

 

 

 

* * *

As it was my birthday yesterday (I feel old), here is a gift.

 

 

 


End file.
